Potions Accident
by Ebony Starstorm
Summary: Snape has been hit with a potion of his own making. Now, can he survive being an ickle firstie again?
1. New life, new friends, new house?

**Chapter I**

**De-aging Potion**

**Professor Snape was looking just as disgusted as usual. He had managed to make a mess of his potion somehow. The potion was meant to be as black as night, but it had turned out emerald green. Snape had just stooped to examine it when it over boiled, drenching him with a roar. It stung his face. Suddenly he felt very odd. He looked round and, spying a metal bowl, peered into it, trying to see his reflection. He was in for a shock. A first year looked back at him, undersized, with black hair and eyes and a too pale and drawn face. As he looked down he swallowed, what was he meant to do now?**

**Elsewhere in Hogwarts Dumbledore was staring down at his roles as a new name added itself to the first year's list, it fit snugly between "Snak, Margaret and Sorrel, Dean, with amazement he read, then reread the name now inked onto the parchment, Snape, Severus? He suddenly knew that something was terribly wrong. He sprinted down to the dungeons, only to find a very embarrassed eleven year old. The child looked very familiar and Dumbledore had a strange feeling of deja-vu as he stared down into too familiar black eyes and realised, not only that this was a future first year but that it was also Professor Snape. Or at least he had been a professor, he was now an eleven year old orphan and Dumbledore realised that he had to find someone willing to take him in. No sooner had his mind begun to work on this new problem however, he had his answer.**

"**Hiding you, Severus, I think that's the answer."**

"**To what, professor Dumbledore, sir" Snape asked**

"**To your problem of course"**

"**What problem, I'm just another eleven year old!"**

"**All the others will be in first year, though, Severus, you aren't, yet."**

"**What? Sir…"**

"**You'll be a first year of course, Severus."**

"**How do you expect to do that sir?"**

"**That is not any business of an eleven year olds, now run along and pack."**

**Scowling for all he was worth, Sev Snape walked down the corridor and almost ran into Professor McGonagall who started to shout at him before getting a good look at his face.**

"**What the, what happened to you, boy?" she said in horror.**

"**Ha, very funny Professor, not!" he shot back.**

"**No first years are meant to be here yet, now what's your name." A horrible suspicion had drifted into the back of her mind.**

"**Professor, I'm scared. I don't know what happened. Help me, please!"**

"**Did the train leave without you then, dear, are you a second year?"**

"**I'm not eleven, or twelve,not really."**

**The suspicion deepened into absolute certainty.**

"**You're a student that's had an accident right?"**

"**No, but if you don't recognise me then no-one else will either."**

"**O.k. kid, that's weird, do whatever you were doing before, I'm going to see Professor Dumbledore. She walked briskly along the corridor, until she was outside the gargoyle.**

"**Sugar plums" The gargoyle sprung to life as she entered Dumbledore's study. "Dumbledore, why is there still a first year wandering around?"**

"**So it worked! Even you don't recognise him."**

"**Who is he Dumbledore, is he a student?"**

"**Yes and no. He got hit by a falling potion bottle this morning.**

"**You mean that's Severus? I don't believe it!"**

"**Believe it, Minerva, no matter what he looks like, he's still very sensitive."**

**There was silence in Dumbledore's office as McGonagall contemplated this. So many things that had not seemed to fit about that boy slid into their rightful pattern. Of course he was tiny and too thin, of course he had black hair and a pale complexion. This was how he naturally looked after all. Just because the potion had changed his physical age didn't mean it had changed his physical characteristics as well. He was still the same on the inside too; she had seen a flash of it in his eyes when she had run into him.**

"**Dumbledore, what do we do with him?"**

"**We teach him of course; after all young minds are there to be nurtured." He managed to hold his expression for a full half a second before he burst out laughing. "To be honest with you I don't know. We have always taught eleven year olds and I don't think this will change. However, how we are going to incorporate him among the other first years I will leave up to his head of house. When he comes back I will administer the sorting hat test and we'll see how he turns out."**

"**But we already know don't we?"**

"**I have reason to believe that Severus Snape will not be placed in Slytherin. But we'll see."**

**When he came back, carrying his luggage, Dumbledore said:**

"**Right, let's check something," and with that much ceremony the sorting hat was dumped over his head.**

"**Hmm, interesting, I believe we have met before, Severus Snape" the sorting hat said in his mind, "but I think you have changed, no I'm sure of it."**

"**Well I am younger" Snape couldn't help but blurt out.**

"**That makes no difference, plenty of courage, but without the brashness, intelligence without a desire to put yourself forward, you do not belong in either Hufflepuff or, as last time, Slytherin." Severus winced at this; it had taken a great deal of arguing on his part to be put in Slytherin instead of Ravenclaw. But what else could he have done? He was part of a traditionally Slytherin family and his parents would have disowned him had he been put anywhere else. "Now where to put you, ah, the missing ingredient, yes I can safely say, GRYFFINDOR!"**

**There was silence for a long while after the sorting hat had made its judgement. Dumbledore had been expecting it to cry RAVENCLAW and McGonagall SLYTHERIN. Snape himself was in shock. This was the one judgement he had not been expecting. He withdrew his left sleeve and stared. The Dark Mark had disappeared. He looked back up at Dumbledore and said softly:**

"**I'm free, I'm normal again." He said it almost reverently as he stared back down at the smooth unblemished skin where the mark used to be.**

"**You're also a future Gryffindor, Severus and I guess I congratulate you," Dumbledore and McGonagall said together.**

"**Thanks" he said sarcastically, "I'll try to live up to the Gryffindor bravery, and stupidity."**

"**You really hate them don't you, Severus?"**

"**It's not a question of hate, Professor; Gryffindors just get on my nerves, that's all."**

"**You _are_ a Gryffindor, boy." He turned in his swivel chair to face Professor McGonagall and said "He'll need a new name of course, any ideas?"**

"**How about Damien Grant?" she said dryly.**

"**Perfect, Minerva, now run along Damien." The parchment then changed accordingly to his new name. Snape, Severus disappeared and Grant, Damien was placed in the list in its respective place.**

**Chapter II**

**The Sorting ceremony**

**Travelling on the Hogwarts express was something of a novelty for Severus as it was for the true eleven year olds. Dressed in a blue T-shirt and jeans, with white trainers poking out at the bottom he certainly looked the part. On Dumbledore's orders he had had a much needed haircut, care of Madam Pomfrey and she had shut down the gland that made his skin and hair greasy- permanently. With very untidy, short black hair and eyes no longer reflecting the black of his clothing, he even looked good. His natural eye colour was in fact sea green and he felt very confident that no-one would recognise him. He was right. A couple of other first years introduced themselves as David Peters and Chris Parks. He had struck up a good friendship with them by the time they reached Hogwarts, using his fake name of course. He stood with the others as Hagrid organised them into boats then they rowed across to the castle. None of the first years touched anything however as the boats were rowing themselves, stately and slowly across the black water. When they reached the castle professor McGonagall was there to meet them.**

"**Hello, students, I am professor McGonagall, the deputy-headmistress, welcome to Hogwarts. Before the start of term banquet, you will all be sorted into houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony. There are four houses, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and you will all become a credit to your house. While you are at Hogwarts, your good behaviour will earn you house point while any rule breaking will result in the loss of them. At the end of the year, the house with the most points will be awarded the house cup. This is a great honour. Now follow me" She swept out of the chamber, the first years, Severus (Err, Damien), included, walking in a higgledy-piggledy line after her. "First years line up" she barked. They all scrambled to their places and the sorting ceremony began.**

"**Accra, Oscar" A scrawny boy with a full head of blond curls sidled up, nervously, to sit on the stool. "HUFFLEPUFF!" the sorting hat cried almost immediately. As the ceremony progressed, Severus… ah Damien, could feel the nervousness that he had felt the first time around rise inside him once again. Like a sleepy sluggish serpent, it wound its way around his stomach and knotted painfully in his heart. After what felt like centuries it was finally his turn.**

"**Grant, Damien," as he seated himself on the stool he was aware of hundreds of eyes upon him. "Hmm… I thought I did you, GRYFFINDOR! The hat snapped irritably before McGonagall whipped it off his head and he joined the scarlet clad Gryffindor table. Almost immediately he noticed a big difference between the two houses he had been sorted into. Where as Slytherin had been none too impressed with having yet another scrawny first year among them, the Gryffindors were practically ecstatic, as he sat down people were clapping him on the back and saying things like**

"**Welcome to Hogwarts" and "Gryffindor is the best house, you'll see." (He privately snorted at that one.) Eventually his friends were sorted**

"**Parks, Christopher" Chris scrambled to the stool through the milling remainder of his year,**

"**RAVENCLAW!"**

"**Peters, David" David's long brown hair disappeared under the hat,**

"**SLYTHERIN!"**

**He looked over sympathetically at David, who, just as he had been when he was really eleven, was being totally ignored.**

**A/N An idea that was chasing itself in my head. You have all these stories where Severus becomes Sixteen or an infant, so why not have him as a first year for a change?**


	2. To the Outlaws!

A/N Not mine, JK Rowlings. Sorry about the long update, I had a succession of colds, and didn't feel up to much.

Chapter III

Cauldrons and how to make them explode

The next day, Damien entered the great hall, heading, once more, for the Gryffindor table. It felt unreal, as he sat down, to be immediately with a timetable by one Hermione Granger, a sixth year prefect. The first lesson was DADA, with Remus Lupin, followed by Charms and Transfiguration, yet his eye was drawn to a lesson the day after, Double Potions, taught by one of the older members of the order, the only person Dumbledore could get at such short notice. As he looked, first to the Ravenclaws, then to the Slytherins, both Christopher and David waved. Smiling he waved back, and then winced, as David was forcibly made to stop by an older student. He had obviously been told about house rivalries, but, just as obviously, couldn't care less when the people in question were his friends. Crabbe and Goyle, the huge sixth year apes, cracked their knuckles suggestively, as they noticed him looking at them, then, suddenly, Draco Malfoy locked eyes with him. There was a half-veiled threat in his eyes.

Once outside the hall, he found himself pushed against the wall by a sneering Draco, the walking walls not far behind.

"What _did_ you think you were doing, in the Great Hall? No Gryffindor mudblood is going to befriend a pureblood like Peters, right, mudblood? Cos if you do, well my friends and I will just have to puree you, and you wouldn't like that, would you? Peters _is_ my cousin after all, and you, well, you're just not the right sort, now are you?"

With that, Goyle punched him, hard on the jaw, as Crabbe beat his upper body. By the time they had finished, there was nothing Damien could do except slump against the wall, as the corridor became dizzy, and he passed out.

As he came too, he could hear voices he recognized, talking in low, worried tones. Harry Potter and Ron Weasley seemed to be explaining how they had found him. The voices stopped, suddenly, as they realized he was awake, and Pomfrey was at his bedside in an instant.

"Well, young one, you've had a nasty time of it. Misters Potter and Weasley found you, leaning against the wall outside the Great Hall. Can you tell us who beat you? Do you remember?"

"Sixth year Slytherins, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle, they told me… to keep away from David, one of the friends I made on the train. They called me a mudblood and beat me!"

Dumbledore looked very grave as he said, levelly,

"They'll have to be expelled; of course, they can't just get away with almost killing someone!"

Damien's face betrayed the shock he felt, as the true meaning and weight of Dumbledore's statement washed over him.

"They almost _killed_ me?"

"One of the ribs they broke punctured a lung, if it hadn't been for these two, you would have died. Also, they broke your jaw and your nose."

"You said, _one_ of, how many ribs did they break?"

"They broke three of them, my boy. They obviously enjoyed beating you. Although the bones are healed, as well as most of the bruises, I am afraid that that black eye of yours must heal on its own."

Damien lay there deep in thought, as Dumbledore cleared his throat.

"I am afraid that I must ask you to leave now, as I have a private matter to discuss with Damien. Poppy, if you may, can you vacate, as he is the only patient currently. I will cast a silencing charm on the door, as this is very important."

"Yes Albus, I will. But I must limit it to ten minutes, this boy needs rest."

"Of course you may, Poppy. It may not even take that long."

Once they had gone, and Dumbledore had cast the charm, he looked down at the skinny boy in the bed, and shook his head sadly.

"You'll never have a good life, will you, Severus? And yes, I'm calling you by your real name. The three boys _will_ be expelled, though, whether you want it or not. I simply can't risk them doing it again." His eyes had stopped twinkling during the speech, and finally, he sighed, and left the room.

Damien was shivering. He had long since gone back to sleep, but he had woken up sweating and shaking violently. The fact that he had almost been killed struck him anew as he lay there, longing to go back to sleep. In the morning he remembered nothing about the night before.

He was informed that he could go, and left, relieved. He didn't like the Hospital Wing very much, (actually a complete understatement), and was instead looking forward to whatever lesson he had. He pulled out his timetable, and grinned. Potions, the best subject he could think of. He started towards the Dungeons, before noticing a rather lost looking boy.

"Hello, who are you, and what class are you in?"

"I'm Oscar, I've got Herbology, but I don't know where!"

Sighing, he trekked to the greenhouse, with Oscar chatting animatedly all the way. When he arrived, Professor Sprout stopped, eyes widening slightly. She visibly relaxed, however, on noticing the colour of his tie.

"Gryffindors are in the dungeons. They are in the main part of the school."

Damien blushed, visibly, before relinquishing his hold on Oscar and departing. It was a very out-of-breath boy that reached the Dungeons, just in time for the lesson.

The Professor looked at him, disapprovingly as she shook her head. She was heard to mumble the following.

"First years, they'd lose their head if it wasn't screwed on!" She let out a gusty sigh, as he scrambled to sit next to David, before clearing her throat.

"I am Professor Bones. I have a Journeyman Potion's degree, so am definitively qualified to teach you. Potion's is a difficult subject, liked by few, loved by a tiny minority of the wizarding world. Now, as this is your first year, as it is mine, I will take the register, and you will raise your hand as your name and house is called. Please only answer your own name, as not just I, but at least half your classmates, will not know you. Any pranksters will be serving detention. As you are first years, I do not mind if your cauldrons explode, as you will not know any better. Now, to begin the list,

Bataan, Greta, Slytherin"

A mousy-haired girl raised her hand, frowning.

"Curtis, Adam, Gryffindor"

A blonde boy, who had been the least talkative of the Gryffindor year-mates, raised his hand uncertainly.

"Grant, Damien, Gryffindor,"

Damien smirked, as he waved slightly.

The teacher scowled all the way through the rest of the list, stopping after David's name to glance at their table, confused.

"A Gryffindor and a Slytherin? Oh well, your funeral!" she muttered, tolerantly.

Damien of course knew just how to make the easy potion on the board. However, just as he knew how to make it work, he also knew how to make it explode. He mixed a perfect potion, before adding a drop of water, and ducking, pulling David with him. It exploded, in a riot of noise, colour and a very bad smell, which made the teacher groan.

She looked over through the smoke, to the table, where both boys were hiding, and laughed. She just laughed. Both children had blackened faces, but looked to be unharmed. However, their cauldron had somehow grown legs, and was tap-dancing merrily.

Finally, as she managed to stop, she said, briskly,

"Right, you two, here, now, what happened?"

"We don't know professor," David enthused, looking confused.

"It just, exploded. We followed the instructions on the board, but, it just did." Damien added.

"Well, water could have got in," Professor Bones said, smiling. "It's alright, you didn't do anything wrong, it just happened. Go and sit down again."

The two did, sheepishly, sniggering slightly.

As they left the room, David started to laugh.

"Her face, she really believed that it was an accident!"

"But, it was!"

"Yeah, Damien, whatever you say. I mean it wasn't like you added that water on purpose, after all."

"O.K, I might have, but the explosion was amazing. I'm going to be her worst student."

"Nuts, you are, totally nuts. If you can do it, why don't you?"

Damien shrugged, and then brightened as he caught sight of Chris.

"Hey, Chris, how goes the garden science."

Chris laughed, then rolled his eyes.

"I wasn't paying much attention. I've been thinking, how about we form a secret gang? You know, with nicknames and everything."

"Why not, but, we don't have nicknames."

Christopher pulled out a parchment, on which he had jotted three names. The others whistled.

"Yeah," David said, "these'll work. Shadow really fits Damien, and Quaffle'll work for you, Owl's O.K, but, who's Oak?"

"That would be me," a familiar voice said, shyly, "I helped him out; so, I'd like to join if you'll have me."

"Course, Oscar, we'll have you. Glad you want to join in."

The four put their hands in the center of the table and looked around.

"We need a general name, one that fits the group."

"I've got one," Damien put in, "How about the Outlaws. That's what the teachers will probably try to make us, after all!"

The others nodded, before putting their hands in the circle again, and crying, with one voice,

"To the Outlaws!"

Their first prank happened the next day. Blaise Zabini sipped his Pumpkin juice, then choked. Steam was coming out of his ears and slowly seeping across the floor. The entirity of Slytherin house laughed at his misfortune, before looking around, half-afraid that they, too, would become victims of the unknown prankster. McGonagall raised her voice above the ruckus to yell out random names, giving them detentions that were unfair, before she looked suspicially at the first years, and froze.

Was that a smirk adorning one of her Gryffindor's faces? Yes, it was. She groaned aloud as she remembered what had happened over the summer. Of course, it had to be something to do with Severus. He had always been a prankster, and a little think like being eleven wouldn't stop him. Clearing her throat, she looked at him, engaging in a staring match she knew she couldn't win, before turning her gaze to each of the other tables in turn, looking for a partner in crime. One student on each table looked either guilty, or smug, in the case of the Slytherin.

Sighing, she gave up. If, as it seemed there was one in each house, then they would not be very popular with anyone. Three of the four houses would dislike, greatly, members of their own having anything to do with a Slytherin, and said house would definitely have something to say about a percieved friendship with either Gryffindor or Hufflepuff.

She knew, that though they were currently friends, there was plenty of trouble coming.

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